


A Beautiful Cacophony

by rant_girl



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-12
Updated: 2015-07-12
Packaged: 2018-04-08 21:43:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4321827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rant_girl/pseuds/rant_girl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Beer, food and Sam. That’s all Dean ever wanted. Sam wants to give him something he needs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Beautiful Cacophony

**Author's Note:**

> Set somewhere on the season 10 timeline. But no spoilers. Thanks as always to **tmn1966** for her support.

Okay so Dean knew he shouldn't really question the validity of this, he should just sit back and enjoy it for what it was. And what is was, was something he'd wanted for quite some time now. Just him, Sammy and a bar. Nothing more. Nothing less. Thing is though that this was Sam's suggestion. He had actually asked Dean if he wanted to go out for a drink. So they were in a bar. On a karaoke night. There hadn't been any takers so far, but Dean suspected that there never really were in this place. Crowd didn't seem the type. Well maybe there might have been a few potentials, but they were nowhere near liquored up enough. Not yet.

Also weird was the fact that Sam was drinking. Knocking them back even. Dean had been keeping tabs in case he had to cut him off. Sam tended to get kind of emotional when he got drunk and Dean really couldn't take the extra heartache. He already knew all the ways Sam hurt. All the ways he'd hurt him. He'd caused more than his fair share of late. And all the other times before that. Sam was kind of hanging around in the happy land of tipsy right now and Dean wanted them to stay there just a little longer. Talking about things that didn't really matter and at once mattered the most.

It wasn’t too often Sam let them talk about their childhood fondly. But damnit there were good memories in there and Dean liked knowing that Sam actually remembered them too. That they meant something more than just to him. 

Dean had ordered them some nachos with a side of hot wings. Help slow down the alcohol. And because they were delicious. Too bad this place didn’t do onion blossoms. Their knees were touching under the table, legs resting comfortably together. So when Sam started to twitch, knees knocking a little more up tempo, Dean noticed right away. Knew he was going to go to the bathroom before he even opened his mouth. 

Or so Dean had thought. 

The microphone screeched as it came to life and Dean sat to attention as his eyes were drawn to the stage. _What the–_.

“Uh. Hi. Uh, uhm. Hello. I’m Sam. And this. This is for Dean.” 

_Fuck_. Dean wasn’t sure how long he’d had his mouth open before he realised it and shut it. The wait ‘til the music started up seemed to last a hundred years and then there was the intro. Sam’s hand clenched and unclenched round the microphone. Clenched Dean’s gut too. He dragged his hand down and across his mouth. He didn’t know what to do. And he suddenly wished he had some water. Now there was a rare thought. His gaze locked onto Sam’s face when he started to sing.

_It's all the same, only the names will change  
Everyday it seems we're wasting away…_

Got him right in the gut again. Sam was singing. The off-key didn’t matter. He was singing. In front of people. For Dean. A big beautiful ball of puppy nerves. Dean couldn’t leave him all on his own up there. Dean downed the rest of his beer and went to his brother. Slung his arm across his shoulders and he sang at the top of his lungs. 

_Sometimes you tell the day_  
_By the bottle that you drink  
And times when you're alone all you do is think..._

Somehow they didn’t sound half as bad together as they did when they were solo. Or maybe that was just Dean. The crowd seemed happy when they were finished at any rate. Mostly. There were a couple of guys who seemed to be a _tad_ insecure about their own sexuality who were giving them the stink eye. Dean really wasn’t in the mood to start anything though. He just wanted to get his brother home.

“Dean. Can we go?”

Dean blinked. A smile in place as he glanced back over his shoulder to look at him, “Sure thing, Sammy,” and he clapped him on the shoulder, his other hand firm on Sam’s chest, to steady him, as he turned. 

They hadn’t ventured far from the bunker so it didn’t take long. 

Getting Sam into his own room and into his bed was something else entirely. He kept sinking all his weight into Dean as they walked. And then once they were actually in the room Sam wouldn’t let go, kept asking him to stay.

Dean had just flicked out his own light when Sam opened his door back up.

“Sam?”

“Doesn’t it mean anything to you?”

He could play dumb, he could flip the light back on, tell Sam to go back to bed, but Dean knows what his brother means. Knows that in his current state Sam is less likely to let things get swept under the rug. Dean huffs a little, “Last time we sang that song together, I was about to die.”

“I don’t want to lose you again,” here came the emotions. 

Dean was ready to shrug and brush it off, “Sam–” but Sam had other ideas. He was on Dean before he could even finish his thought. Dean flinched and then his body locked as their lips met. He quite literally hadn’t seen it coming. So there was no way he could have ever anticipated kissing back. But he did. He unfroze and he started pushing back. He leaned into it. Pulling Sam in. And then their lips parted on a desperate gasp for air, “Sam. We can’t. We shouldn’t–”

Dean swallowed hard, but he couldn’t get rid of the lump in his throat. The thrum of his heart almost deafening. But Sam kept him in the circle of his arms, “I know. But I don’t care.”

Dean shook his head, trying and failing to remain tense, Sam was rubbing his back, soothing. Dean closed his eyes, “It’s not right.”

He opened his eyes back up to Sam’s, he could see them even through the shadows, as Sam cupped his cheek, “Doesn’t need to be right. Only needs to be ours.”

They kissed again and with an even greater sense of urgency this time but Dean broke it off and he broke out of Sam’s arms, “I can’t–”

“Dean, why fight it? It’s the only thing that makes sense.”

“ _Sense_?” Dean shook his head, pushing his hands back through his hair, “You’re really going to claim sense as your argument for this…this–” _abomination_? Dean worried his lip as he turned away. He couldn’t say it. Didn’t want to. Or he wanted to want to. 

They were both so fucked up in every other way already. But maybe that was Sam’s point. Didn’t make Dean feel any better. If their parents could see them now. And Dean really fucking hoped they couldn’t. 

But Sam was here, seeking him out. Touching. And as if on cue he wrapped his arms around Dean again, but from behind this time, his chin resting on Dean’s shoulder. It filled an ache in Dean he’d always had to tamper down. But not like that. It wasn’t. He wasn’t. Sam had a habit of pulling away. Leaving. And he didn't go without a parting glance. He cut Dean to the core every single time. Made him feel like he wasn't enough. He should feel more shame for just how much he needs Sam to need him. For how good it had felt to kiss him. And the part of him that wants to kiss him again.

This wasn’t just about giving Sam what he wanted, “We do this? There’s no going back.”

Hell, they already took the turn, but the further they go over the line…

If they turned back now Dean could write it all off as alcohol induced insanity. But if he gave in? “What happens when you decide it doesn’t make sense anymore?” _Fuck_. Maybe he couldn’t rule out drunken insanity just yet. 

Sam nudged Dean to let him know he wanted him to turn back around. Face him. When Dean had complied that’s when he said, “Never gonna happen.” His voice firm and sure. 

Dean wasn’t. But fuck it. He was screwed no matter what. Might as well enjoy the ride while he still could. He placed his hands on Sam’s hips, guiding him over to his bed, “Okay, Sammy.”

“Okay?” Sam asked, a slight slip in his certainty.

Dean’s eyebrow arched up, “You want a written invitation? Maybe a sonnet? I mean Wanted (Dead or Alive), not exactly what you’d call a love song, but–”

“Jerk.” Sam punctuating the word with a jab to Dean’s arm. 

“Bitch,” Dean said it automatically, reflexively. But it made him smile all the same. It’d been a while. Too long a while since they’d shared that particular exchange. But now it stirred new thoughts. _Connotations_. Something about riding. 

Sam’s mouth was on his again and Dean wasn’t going to stop it this time. He caressed Sam’s sides, working his hands in under Sam’s cotton t-shirt and up his back and then back down to Sam’s ass. Dean let his thumb skim down into Sam’s boxer-briefs as he gave the firm supple flesh a good squeeze. Their lips stayed connected as Sam’s hands took similar pathways over Dean’s body. But when Sam cupped Dean’s dick he convulsed, a full body tremor taking hold. Sensory overload. And all the dirty-bad-wrong of it all. He buried his face in the crook of Sam’s neck, “Fuck, Sam.”

Dean whimpered when Sam took his hand away, but then he was yanking Dean’s underwear down and out of his way before wrapping his hand around Dean’s suddenly very hard cock. Sam’s voice was hot against the side of his face, “We’ll get to that.”

 _Fuck_. Sam was touching his dick. Jacking him off. Dean grabbed hold of Sam’s shoulders, he didn’t trust his legs to keep him up on their own. _We’ll get to what?_ “Sam–”

"Used to think about it all the time,” Sam said like Dean hadn’t said anything, “About you. God Dean. Used to drive me fucking nuts,” and Dean’s breath hitched with every flick of Sam’s wrist. “And that's before we even get to all those times you fucked girls where you knew I could see you."

Dean wasn’t going to last long. Not if Sam kept running his mouth like that.

"I always wanted to know what it felt like. The way you made them feel. The noises they'd make. And when I was with Jess, I got her to fuck me with a strap-on.”

“Fuck, Sammy,” _fuck_ it was too much. The thought of her lithe body, silicone between her legs, the bounce of her boobs as she pounded into his brother’s ass…

“Called out your name a couple of times. But if she heard, she never called me on it."

That was it. The thing that pushed him over. Sam held him as he came, his other hand still working Dean’s dick through it as Dean quaked, “Fuck.”

Sam kissed him again with a meaning to devour, fire stoked, and he had Dean lit up too. Dean felt drunk with it, more than he had been back at the bar. Sam’s fingers traced Dean’s lips, “Let’s see what else you can do with that mouth.”

Dean dropped to his knees, no hesitation, nose nestled right into the line of Sam’s cock, and he inhaled deep, “Okay, Sammy.”


End file.
